


Ascension

by Lycoria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Body Worship, Genderfluid Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Human Genitalia, Slow Build, female identifying genderfluid pidge, smut that I haven't even planned out yet whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycoria/pseuds/Lycoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been over a year since the loss of the Obsidian Paladin, missing at the edge of the border which kept the Alteans safe and the Galra Empire out. Faced with mounting political unrest, the newly appointed Princess Allura, ruler of the country Altea, must fight for and believe that the Paladins of old will reunite to form the legendary Voltron and save her country. Meanwhile, in the barren desert Wastelands, Shiro is rescued from death by none other than a mysterious exile, Keith. Voltron Fantasy AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Year and Two Months

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first my first Voltron fanfiction, and my first fanfiction in general in a very long time. 
> 
> It'll eventually be Sheith so don't be concerned! (Don't worry seriously, the porn will be there.) This story was inspired by a conversation with a good friend about what sort of AU I would like to most see for a Voltron fic, and with their urging I wound up writing it myself. This is a Fantasy AU retelling of Voltron, but it will have quite a few divergences to keep things fresh. The very basic ideas of the story will obviously be the same, but don't worry about having to deal with an exact retelling of Voltron just with magic and more trees and stuff like that. 
> 
> Either way, I hope you'll enjoy! I look forward to everyone's thoughts.

When Takashi Shirogane finally regained his senses, he was blinded by the impossibly green light. A midday sun, and the strange feeling of his own feet that moved forwards outside his will were the only things he could gather his scattered thoughts around. Blinking rapidly, wincing from the bright surroundings, he could hear a single command, driving him forward.

_Keep Moving._

Fuzzily, wearily, he sees endless rows of green trees and lush foliage. Alien, foreign, yet for some reason all too familiar. Shiro felt as if he had seen these exact tree trunks, marked with bright springtime leaves, for possibly days. Even so, he couldn’t recollect exactly when the forest ended or began, or where his journey itself started. _Disorienting,_ he hears himself say, but in truth his throat was far too parched to really sound the words. Instead his cracked lips shook from the effort.

Regardless, he continued shuffling forward, spurred on by some mad, most likely vain attempt to survive, to keep moving, to keep walking forward to god knows where.

Or maybe to run away?

Shiro couldn’t tell. Rather, he had no strength to think beyond his baseline instinctual thoughts. The forest gradually opened up like a picture book, beckoning him forward to the new scenery of an aggressive, inhospitable sun and endless dunes of sand. _The Wasteland_ , Shiro could understand that much. He was at the edge of the worlds, the borders of the countries. An impervious stretch of desert in which only the most unforgivable criminals were sent to starve and wither in the sun. Off far in the distance, a glimmering shape of pristine white towers rose above, a symbol to its people and a threat to its hostile neighbors.

He could feel himself pulling away from the stream, out and above the sludge that muddled his brain beyond comprehension. The towers were that of the Altean castle, and with a start Shiro began to realize who he was exactly.

_That’s right,_ he understood now, _I was on a journey… to…? For…?_

The harder he pulled at his own memories, the stronger the strings that wound around his thoughts tightened. He couldn’t make sense of anything else without exhausting his minimal resources.

_Let’s start from the beginning... I am Takashi Shirogane, a human of Altea._

_Human of Altea…_

He felt himself falling forward, vision flashing bright white before receding into black. His ears began to ring, and distantly he felt his body hit the sand with the softest thump. As if the dunes themselves were offended for bearing the weight of his fall, the wind picked up and began to envelop him in grains of sand.

Ever so slowly, he knew he was sinking.

 

* * *

 

“With all due respect, Princess Allura. We implore you…”

Within the hallowed royal hall of the Altean castle was an assembly of the greatest political minds in all of the country. The twelve councilmen, revered as only those second to the royal line, had gathered today with a desperate plea to the reigning crown Princess Allura.

She sat on a white throne, the blue jewel in her circlet glistening against her white hair. For all her regal elegance and stony façade, Allura herself felt vastly different from her outer appearance. This was not so much an ambush, but still an unfair fight. There was ongoing discontent with the supporters of the newly anointed majesty, and she had been advised many times by her most trusted confidante to finally allow the gathering of the twelve before her.

With the pageantry of a royal feast and none of its cheer, a long white marbled table had been set up for her guests, with six chairs on each of the long sides. The table faced her throne at the head of the hall, Allura’s Lady-in-Waiting standing on her right, and her one and only adviser on the left. They were to have lunch first and the meeting second, the table littered with bouquets of flowers and polished gemstones so lavish, it could not have been anything else but a sign of power from the Altean throne. Regardless, some of the men at the table, their faces lined with worry, had not touched their plates.

“It has been well over a year, has it not?” one of the men sitting at the front of table was addressing Allura, someone that she could recall was suspected of smuggling weaponry to their enemies.

“A year and two months, yes.” Allura responded heavily, her elbow delicately perched on the arm of the throne, hand placed under her chin.

The man ran his hand through his white beard. “We cannot go on like this, your Majesty. We must simply admit that the situation will not rectify itself, and we must take different, drastic measures.”

Some of the councilmen behind him nodded their heads in agreement.

The princess looked at the men seated before her, then towards her left, to the wide open columns that showed a spectacular view outside. Spring had arrived to the country, the air was sweet and a soft breeze was felt throughout the hall. But here she was, dealing with the mess before her. Things had certainly changed in a year and two months. She looked back at the men, clearly flustered that she had not yet made any motion to acknowledge their concerns. “And what do you suggest, Councilman Roderick?”

“Give up the search for the Obsidian Paladin, assert your place as the rightful ruler of the throne.” He quickly answered, as if the answer was obvious.

“Are you asking me to abandon our one and only Paladin? To simply give up?” Her other hand, free at her side, clenched into a fist.

Councilman Roderick sighed, as if lecturing a child, “There are many other paladins, may I remind you. Peridot, Citrine, Carnelian, and Azurite. We will enlist their help.”

“But what if they are not found? May I remind _you,_ ” She said, pointedly, “That the Obsidian Paladin’s first mission was to find and enlist the help of those very people. He had Sir Holt and his firstborn, just shy of knighthood, at his side. All three were lost at the border of Altea.”

She had ceased speaking for a moment, her eyes glinting like a polished dagger, “Lost under incredibly suspicious circumstances that have not yet been fully investigated.”

He pressed on, deftly avoiding the accusations. “But quickly after that, our enemies drew closer, at all sides, we had no choice but to fall back. It could only be assumed at this point that the Obsidian Paladin had been slain. Let us also not forget that only months before the Paladin’s first mission was the untimely death of His Majesty King Alfor, which led to your ascension to the throne, as well as the beginning of many other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yes, including the incredible undertaking and promise of protection for an entire country.”

At that, Allura’s eyes widened, ire bleeding into her features, “It was the right thing to do. Our neighbor, the country Terra, was under siege by the Galra Empire. Were we to allow them to lay waste to their entire civilization?”

“We all voted and agreed that at that time, we believed in you, our princess, and in the humans of Terra. We had believed that they would be able to rally under Altean forces and add to our numbers.” The councilman turned to look at his associates, spurred on by their grim faces, “Unfortunately they did nothing but stretch our resources far too thin, and now we are bound to snap like an overly taut string.”

“I made it clear that they were under our protection, but nothing more. They are a small country with technologies and magics far less advanced than ours. The humans are free to do as they please. Two of those humans were of course Sir Holt and his son, Matthew.”

“But two is nothing in the face of an entire country of worthless barbarians.” Councilman Roderick’s voice boomed over Allura’s, momentarily startling her. At the very back, she heard silverware clattering loudly onto a plate. Somehow one of the councilman had managed to continue with his meal even as tension rolled across the hall. In the silence, a squeaking voice mumbled his deepest apologies.

Princess Allura’s eyes were bright, twin stars that revealed her royal heritage, her destined upbringing. Her voice was tight with none of her usual lilting charm as she uttered, “You dare…” 

“I do, in the face of a leader who refuses to assume the title of Queen and would rather hide in her father’s shadow.” He pressed on, recklessly, “We have waited and waited with no result, only failures and false promises. It would be better to sign our agreement and surrender to the Galra Empire, beg for their mercy than to see someone like _her_ stand before your side.”

It took everything Allura had in her to not falter under his gaze. Instead she coolly turned her head to her right, where her unassuming human Lady-in-Waiting stood. Katie Holt, with her wild brown hair and round, wired rimmed glasses, had been suddenly thrown into the debate. Her freckled face reddened and mouth pinched into a curious shape, but respectfully remained silent.

“A daughter of a noble knight is worthy to stand beside me.” The rage that had previously roiled in her was now burning as a steady, bright flame. Allura’s face was once again cold, impassable when she turned to address the councilman. “But clearly you are the unworthy one.”

The princess stood, and instantly the eleven other men did the same out of ingrained respect, the chairs squeaking as they were hurriedly pushed out from under them.

“My deepest apologies, but it appears we have reached an impasse.” She smiled genially, and as if a cold wind had gusted into the hall, some of her guests shivered. “It is so unfortunate to have our lunch cut short by such difficult topics, but it is clear that Councilman Roderick and I will have to continue this privately at a later date.”

They began to shuffle awkwardly out of the room, each one bowing low and murmuring well wishes to the princess before stepping out. At last there was only Roderick, who bowed low, but maintained seething eye contact with Allura before turning to leave.

The doors of the hall shut, resounding like an ominous gong as the silvery spiraling metals decorating the heavy wood doors glimmering in the afternoon sun. Princess Allura’s body crumpled, becoming smaller than it had just been before. Katie, on her right, and Coran, her watchful but silent advisor on her left, rushed to hold her up, their eyes filled with worry.

“I’m fine…” She sighed after a moment, “I’d like to retire to my room.”

“He had no right to say any of what he said.” Coran, now away from the prying eyes of the councilmen, had returned to his usual chatty, animated self. “This entire process has been incredibly hard for everyone involved, and it’s clear that something is going on with Roderick to want so badly to turn the others against you.”

He nervously pulled at his mustache as they exited to the right, back into the inner chambers of the castle.

“I can’t believe they treated you this way… you’re the princess.” Katie frowned as they passed by numerous doors on either side of the halls. “I agree with Coran, there’s something fishy going on with that guy and I’m going to figure out what’s up.”

Allura took a left, this hallway’s ceiling taller than the one before. At the end was a large door to her chambers, two palace guards standing nearby. Before she entered with Katie, she turned to look at Coran, who for some reason, looked incredibly guilty.

“I’m sorry I told you to talk to them. Maybe it wasn’t the right choice.”

“No,” Her voice had hardened now that she had a moment to gather her thoughts, “You were right Coran, keeping them in the dark and allowing them to grumble about their concerns amongst themselves would have cause only more unrest.”

She bid farewell to Coran before sinking onto the chair in her parlor, Katie hovering near her with her hands bunched around the green skirt of her uncomfortable ceremonial gown. They were still for a moment before Katie opened her mouth to speak. “You don’t think… they’re right do you? That Dad- I mean, Sir Holt and Matthew Holt… that they’re gone?”

Allura leaned forward, her face unreadable, arms resting on her knees as if in some form of prayer. “No, I don’t. I still feel the power of the Obsidian Paladin’s weapon. As long as I can feel that much, he’s alive. And he was never the type of person that would let his comrades be hurt.”

Even in the face of so much adversity, Allura’s resolve seemed to gather itself even stronger around her, her mouth set in determination. “I think Shiro’s still out there. We just need to keep looking. I believe in him.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey.”

A voice called for Shiro, faint and tinny, but with a clear tone of annoyance.

With heavy lidded eyes he blinked to see sunlight streaming through a poorly nailed together wooden slat roof. However, it was only for a moment, and as the room spun around him like he was the axis, he could feel that he was gently closing his eyes, if only to stop the dizzying waltz in his vision.

“Hey.”

That voice came once again, insistent for his attention. Shiro groaned to himself and tried to roll onto his side. Much to his regret, that only increased the intensity of the headache pounding behind his eyes, the earth rolling under his body like a wave. 

Whoever had been calling for him was now silent, and Shiro was grateful for the quiet. The caller made movements that sounded like they were standing up, heaving a heavy sigh before unceremoniously giving him a hard slap across the face.

He shot off the ground, holding his already reddening cheek gingerly in the palm of his hand. Still dizzy and beyond understanding of the other person’s motives, he could only look around and wince, glaring at the offender. Even with dazed eyes, he could blurrily make out a young human man with black hair, his purple eyes wide with curiosity. “Great. You’re awake.”

“…What?” At the back of his mind, Shiro knew he should be more wary, have his guard up to this stranger, but he also knew he was much too weak. Propping himself up on his other arm, he tried to steady himself.

A quick glance at his surroundings made him realize that he had been laying down on a pile of dried leaves, and the space was a tiny makeshift hut. Outside the wind blew turbulently, the cracks in the walls allowing a fine coat of sand to coat every surface. Not that there were many surfaces in the first place. It was only then that Shiro recalled he had fallen unconscious in The Wasteland.

“Well I mean,” the young man interrupted his train of thought, “The last time I did that you didn’t respond. I’ve been doing it every couple of hours to make sure you weren’t dead.”

Shiro couldn’t help but be a bit dry with his response, “Every couple of hours. Slapping me in the face.”

“Yeah.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them. “What were you…” Shiro started his sentence, not knowing how to end it. He rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to ease his headache. No luck. “What were you going to do if I didn’t eventually wake up?”

The stranger shrugged a little too nonchalantly for his comfort, “I dunno. Well if you were dead I would probably throw you back out there. There’d be no point keeping you around.”

Shiro cringed a little inwardly at the response before deciding it was better off that he was saved by such an odd person than to have died out there by exposure, starvation, heat stroke, or any combination of the three.

“Oh yeah. Have this.” The boy handed him a little cup, made haphazardly out of clay or chiseled out of soft rock. “We don’t have a lot of water around here so you’re lucky that I had enough to save you.”

Something in him finally clicked, and he grasped with shaking hands at the cup before gulping down the liquid quickly. The stranger sighed before getting up to draw more from a basin he had a few feet away, the other side of the hut. He came soon after with the cup full, and Shiro once again drained that gratefully.

“I owe you. What’s your name?” Shiro finally asked, his dizziness finally waning. 

The young man visibly flinched as if afraid. For a moment it didn’t seem like he would answer, but when he did, it was in a quiet voice. “Keith.”

“Thank you again Keith. I’m Takashi Shirogane. You can call me just Shiro.”

“No problem… Shiro.” Keith said, no louder from his previous sentence.

Shiro took the opportunity to lay down once again and close his eyes. “I’m still not feeling 100 percent. So I would appreciate if you just give me a bit more time.”

“You’re not going to die in the meantime?”

“I don’t think so. You can slap me again if you can’t wake me the normal way.”

“And what would that be?”

“Just call my name.”

 

* * *

 

The next time Shiro woke, it was on his own terms. The wind had settled and the light had left from the sky. Next to him was a low burning pit of firewood, necessary for the freezing desert nights. His head was remarkably clear, and so he finally had the time to remember something incredibly vital to him. He realized he didn’t have his weapon sheathed at his side, something he had fought tooth and nail to keep safe for too long. Had it been stolen from him while he wandered the forests and desert, delirious?

Panic stricken, he brushed aside the sand and dried leaves while looking around the tiny hut in the low light. It was then that he noticed beside him, reflecting from the flames dancing, was a sheath and a familiar looking hilt. He drew the sword, and in the firelight he could see the black blade, sinister in its dark coloration and no different from the last time he had seen it. Shiro sighed with relief, deciding to find Keith and thank him once again. 

A bit unsteadily, Shiro got up, realizing that he was still a bit shaky, even if his mind was sound. A thick cloth draped over the entrance of the hut, and so he pulled aside, feeling the gritty fabric against his fingers. It wasn’t terribly cold, but still on the frigid side of things, he noted to himself. He then looked out onto the landscape, startlingly astounded by a wondrous field of stars dotting the night sky.

He had never seen anything like it, so perfectly clear without the night lights of Altea, or the trees’ branches to partially obscure his vision. It was grand, sublime even, and it made Shiro feel strangely small, standing on endless sand dunes in the middle of the desert.

Off into the distance in the dark, he could fuzzily make out a figure that seemed approximately like Keith’s. With his sword in hand, he had no concerns and walked towards the body, still remaining passive in his walk. “Keith?” He called out when he got nearer, still not able to completely make out the figure’s shape.

Keith turned, and Shiro allowed himself a crooked smile. Of course it was Keith, it wasn’t like there was anyone else around after all.

But then he saw the strangely yellow tint of his eyes, and two large purple ears pointing out of the boy’s black hair.

“Shiro-”

Instinctively, he drew up his sword, a strange pang of betrayal bloomed in his chest. There was no reason to already feel so attachment to the other boy, but he had just saved his life. Shiro didn’t want to believe it, but he also could not deny what he saw before him.

“Shiro…” Keith stuttered a little, looking at the sword in front of him that was poised to strike, “Wait… please, I-“

Only the sound of a heavy sigh could be heard from the Shiro, his tired muscles still ready to wield, to fight.

“Keith… you’re Galran?”


	2. Chameleon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thank you so much for all the wonderful response to the first chapter, I couldn't believe it!  
> Thank you especially to all of the people that commented as well, it was really nice to hear your thoughts.

Some part of Keith, a little bit bigger than he would like to admit, was ready to allow it; allow the man he had just saved from death to kill him and finally end his existence. With his heightened Galran senses he was able to see Shiro’s body clearly in the dark. He was taking shaky breaths, his arms straining to hold the sword still. Behind him was the hut that he had managed to make for himself, the dark rock formation that protected the back of his shelter jutting out into the night sky.

Nothing in his recent memory gave him a reason to continue living. Months of punishing isolation, running from other wanderers of The Wastelands, catching animals native to the dunes, praying to any deity before a meal in a vain hope that his meal that day would not end up killing him.

Even still, there was an equal opposing force, what had driven him to continue eke out a living despite his circumstances. A hatred that burned brighter than the sun that beat down on him day after day. He had to live as proof to those that so easily abandoned him.

Biting his lower lip to will the building adrenaline to remain just below the surface, he looked at Shiro in the eye before answering. “I’m… Half-Galran. Half-human.”

Shiro remained quiet, trying his best to hide signs of exhaustion, his days running in the wilderness had taken everything from him. “This isn’t some sort of trick?”

“No.”

The ears that had been pointed on Keith’s head were now flattened, defensive. Imperceptibly Shiro widened his stance and dug his feet into the sand in an attempt to gain stability.

“You know…,” Keith smiled a bitter smile before he could hold it back, words tumbling out of his mouth, “I kind of what you to do it.”

“Do… what?”

“Kill me.”

Once again Shiro said nothing, uncomprehending of the young man’s words. Even when he was back there, he had never slain hopeless opponents willingly, only striking when it was deemed absolutely necessary.

_Back where?_

“Why do you think I’m out here?” The wind began to howl, once again lifting grains of sand into the air. “I’m curious. Why do you think I’m living here in this sad, little hut?”

“Maybe… maybe you’re a Galran soldier, sent to cross the border as a human.”

Keith shook his head. “The Galra are prideful. They’d never let such a valuable asset camp his way across the desert just to slip into Altean borders.”

“Are you valuable to them?”

“Not in the least.” He lowered his eyes, looking at the mottled purple and white skin of the palm of his hand.  

A gust of wind blew sand into the tense conversation, both of them wincing from the sudden spray of grit. Keith swiftly looked upwards, the stars now obscured, black clouds rolling from the distance. He looked at his shelter and the large rock that covered its backside, safety from the incoming storm. “We have to get out of here, go back to the hut.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” As Shiro said those words he knew there wasn’t much of an option. He turned his head to the side and looked at the sandstorm as it devoured the dunes beneath it at an alarming rate.

“Either you die here or you might die with me. I can promise I absolutely have no intention of doing you harm, but I can tell my words aren’t worth much right now.”

They looked at each other, the sand picking up so rapidly, it became clear that it would be only a matter of moments before they would no longer have the opportunity to make a choice. Slowly, Shiro lowered his sword and straightened his legs before both of them took off to Keith’s shelter, only a few yards away.

Even after they made it to the hut, Keith’s work was far from over. He frantically scrambled to find a small metal tin full of old nails, the rust caking each surface. With a heavy rock he began to methodically hammer each of them into the cloth that covered the entrance, preventing the sand from blowing in. Still, there were visible cracks in the walls where the wooden planks lined up, the seams allowing tiny rock fragments to seep into the room.

“The majority of the time, the wind comes in from the other side of the rock behind this hut.” Keith had sat down in the space between his makeshift bed and the fire. His was breathing a bit more easily now, the sweat from his brow trickling down onto the side of his face. “So we should be safe.”

Shiro sat down next to Keith, trying to keep the small flame in the middle of the room going with the dried leaves of Keith’s bed, but with his sword still by his side. With the cramped quarters, they were forced to sit next teach other, their shoulders almost touching. “What do you do if it ever comes from the other direction?”

“Rebuild the hut again, I guess.”

His face hardened when he heard Keith say the word “again.” The young man’s features had shifted back to resembling a human, his skin pale and his eyes a subtle purple. It was hard to believe that just a moment ago he had seen a Galran, dangerous and elusive.

“How long have you been here?”

Keith buried one of his hands into the sand distractedly, lost in thought for a moment. “I’m guessing a couple months. But anything feels like ages at this point.”

“What… what do you do to survive? Because from what I’ve heard…” Shiro trailed off, strangely self-conscious about what he was intending to say.

“You mean why I’m not dead? I know what they say about The Wasteland too. Only the worst criminals and army defectors of Galra get stuck here. Galra lets them die here fighting each other, or fighting Alteans that were given the same fate.” Keith threw some of the dried leaves from his bedding into the fire, watched it spark and crackle as it hungrily devoured the organic material. Outside the wind continued to howl, and every once in a while the hut groaned with effort.

He looked at the fire until the leaves had become nothing, burned away with such ferocity. “I ran every single time I saw anyone. Galra would call me a coward, especially because of my family’s heritage, but it was what I had to do. Out here a lot of people kill each other for resources. I played it safe. I guess it also helped that I could become human or Galran at will, because it bought me time whenever I found myself in a bad situation.”

Keith began to talk of his day to day, how he foraged for materials at the borders of Galra, how he caught lizards the first days he was out in the desert, before he could find anything else to eat. Shiro was quiet for quite some time, listening. Finally, when Keith had reached a pause to his explanation, he looked at him, looked at the hair that had grown in the past months, the long strands of black touching the collar of his battered jacket. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked Keith.

A faint blush rose onto Keith’s cheeks, knowing that he must have rambled for quite some time. Even so, a kind of fierceness reflected in his eyes. “I need you to be able to trust me. So I’m trying to tell you everything. There’s nothing I can hide from you anyways.”

Shiro nodded, somewhat understanding. Keith continued to look at him steadily, his eyes still as bright. “What I’m going to tell you next is the truth. And knowing that you are an Altean soldier, I’m sure you will have heard his name.”

He paused for a moment, as if to summon the courage needed. “General Sendak… was my father. I was his disgraced half Galran son.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Katie woke with a start, and for a moment she had no idea where she was. The room had gone completely dark since she had fallen asleep, the last candle burned out. Gingerly, she peeled her face off her desk and readjusted her glasses. With still tired eyes, she glanced at the window next to where she sat, the early morning sky had taken on the characteristic grey that happened only just before sunrise.

She had poured over all the documents that she could secure about Councilman Roderick, everything that even the Spymaster had allowed her to see for the promise of any other interesting information she could find. Trails ended cold, suspicious players in the councilman’s game wound up missing, and the most she could scrounge up was gossip and assumptions.

Katie stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness in her shoulders before hearing the soft thump of a blanket falling onto the ground. Embarrassed, she knew right away that Allura had come in when she nodded off.

She gathered the blanket and folded it carefully before heading to her bed on the opposite room. Laying the blanket down gently, she studied the fine cloth, pinching it between her fingers. The regal gold thread spiraling on a predominately white and blue background looked completely different than the rest of her own room, utilizing forest greens and dark in the morning light. On her bed stand was a well-worn letter from over a year ago, carried over from her previous life into this next one. The pages were falling apart at the creases, and so she took the greatest care whenever she reread it.

With an annoyed grunt, she realized she had slept in her heavy gown from the meeting earlier the previous day, adding to her overall irritation at being unable to find anything new on the councilman. Katie took the dress off hurriedly, sighing with delight and relief when she was finally rid of the offending garment.

She traded the dress with its thick fabrics and delicately stitched pattern for a pair of pants and a shirt, once made from rough material, but now soft from constant use. She secured a belt at the pant loops and tightened it before buttoning up the plain white shirt, lacing the vest as the outer layer haphazardly before giving up for a messy knot. Katie smiled at herself in the mirror, feeling the restlessness ease away. It was early morning, but she was sure that the person she had in mind was awake, already getting ready for the day.

The door beside her desk led to the rest of Princess Allura’s chambers, but the smaller, unassuming wooden door beside her bed was the one traditionally used by the servants of the castle, as a direct route to the ruler’s living space from the servant’s quarters. Katie unlocked the door and carefully opened it, as to avoid being heard. If anything, it was simply a habit. There was no way that the sound of her door opening would have been heard through the imposing double marble doors that lead to Allura on the other side.

She walked down the dimly lit, narrow stairs before she reached a corridor. At the very end was a single door, and she could hear that the other side was already bustling with activity. With a smile, Katie opened the door to the castle’s kitchen, range chef Hunk was sitting over a bucket with a potato in hand, peeling it deftly while muttering to himself.

One of the line cooks greeted her with an enthusiastic shout, “Hey! It’s the little knight in training!” Another joined in with a good hearted smile, “Visiting your best bud before going off for morning exercises?”

She waved at them before crossing over to see Hunk, immersed in peeling potatoes while talking under his breath. “Hunk? You okay there?”

At the sound of her voice, Hunk turned his head, a wide grin on his face, “Pidge! Hey, good morning! Thanks for visiting me again!”

Pidge looked at the enormous pile of potatoes beside Hunk, the boy more than twice her size still peeling potatoes and setting them aside as he asked her how her training was going. It was a lie she had concocted the first time she had met Hunk in her early morning wanderings, that she was a knight in training and one of the prospective human soldiers of the Altean army.

“Well… you know how it is,” She responded, intentionally vague, “The… higher ups being the higher ups as usual.”

Hunk nodded along as if he completely understood her shoddy reply. “No, I totally get it. Just the other week we had put in a huge order for this week’s meals, like we do it all the time. On the list I got from the sous chef was an order for a crazy amount of tomatoes.”

His face darkened, “So I said, hey, do you really mean this many tomatoes? And he was like, yeah, this is what I mean, don’t question me, blah blah blah. So I gave the order, like we always do.”

Hunk’s hands began to move at lightning speed, setting aside potatoes as quickly as his voice continued onwards with his rant, “Either way, here we are, today, and sous chef says, why did you order so many tomatoes? I meant potatoes! So we reorder the right amount of potatoes and I want to say, I told you so! I warned you! But instead he just says to me, so Hunk, you can peel all these potatoes in time, right? Yeah _sure_ , I can peel all these potatoes in time, especially when you told me I have to find a way to get rid of the tomatoes because it’s _my_ fault-“

Pidge had taken her usual seat at the edge of an unused kitchen counter, following along with Hunk’s story before he stopped suddenly, looking at her with a guilty expression. “I’m sorry, I just went off. In the end, eating is the most important part of any day, so of course we need to get it right.”

She adjusted her glasses and chuckled, “It’s okay, I’m used to it by now. And it’s nice to hear you talk about your worries.”

Hunk softened at the words, understanding what she had meant, knowing that there were some other troubles going on in her mind. His eyes flashed after a moment, remembering something, “Wait, I want you to try my newest creation!”

She watched as he walked over to one of the low burning stoves and the large stock pot off the top, a large toothy smile adorning his features.

“This, is what I did with the tomatoes, and I gotta say I’m pretty proud of it.” He lifted the lid, and they both peered into a pot filled with lime green goop.

“Uh...?” Pidge looked at Hunk with questioning, somewhat disgusted eyes.

“Whoops!” He slammed the lid back onto the pot before heaving it back into his arms. “Wrong dish. This is a traditional Altean dish that was requested.”

Pidge stuck her tongue out, finding it hard to even imagine Princess Allura daintily partaking in the strange sludge. “It’s a little weird at first…” The range chef had noticed her expression, “But don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Sure… I think I’ll pass for now.” She answered drily as he approached her with another identical looking pot.

When he revealed the contents this time, she was greeted with a colorful array of vegetables, the tomatoes and garlic finely diced to mix with some other green herbs that she couldn’t identify. Hunk eagerly scooped her a bit with a wooden spoon. “I was inspired after telling my buddy Lance back at home what had happened, and he helped me come up with this. Usually it’s served on some toasted bread, but I want you to try it anyways. Like they say, growing boys need their nutrition!”

She rolled her eyes at the comment about how tiny she was, even for a girl dressed in what was normally boys’ clothing, but she took the spoon anyways and took a bite.

The acidity of the tomato and garlic burst in her mouth, giving the dish a strongly sour flavor before sweeter notes emerged after. Before she could help herself, she grinned. “This is really good, Hunk!”

“Really? Awesome!” Hunk balled his hand into a fist, pumping it into the air.

“Hey!” A roar was heard from the other side of the kitchen. The sous chef was gripping a frying pan in his hand, his face red. “If you have time to chat then peel those damned potatoes!”

Hunk groaned before trudging back to his bucket and his precariously balanced pile of potatoes, “Looks like our time’s up for today. Maybe I can let you try it out with bread next time?”

Pidge looked out at the window on the far end of the kitchen, the first few rays of sunlight were peeking over the green Altean mountains. “It’s alright. I showed up a bit late today anyways. See you tomorrow Hunk.”

He responded only with a wave before resuming his potato peeling. Pidge shut the kitchen door softly as to not disturb the bustling cooks and walked back to the stairs.  With the door to the servants’ corridor shut and locked, Katie looked at her room, now brightened ever so slightly by the rising sun. She took her clothes off and slipped into her pajamas, thinking to catch just maybe an hour or two more of sleep before waking for her usual duties as a Lady-in-Waiting.

 “Ka…Katie…!”

At the princesses’ call, she rose from bed, rushing over to the heavy doors that was the barrier from her room to the Princess’s quarters. She pulled the marble doors open, surprised to see Allura standing right behind it. The princess wore a shocked expression, one hand clutching at the fabric of her nightgown around her chest, sweat rolling down her forehead.

It had been what felt like ages since Katie had seen Allura look so alarmed, and so she stuttered, “A-Allura… I mean! Princess Allura! What’s wrong?” Her correction had a pronounced squeak to it. 

The princess blinked, clearly noticing the slip up, but pressed onwards. “I felt it… I felt them resonating.”

“Resonating?”

“Of the two Paladins, Citrine and Peridot.”

Katie stared at the girl standing in front of her, her white hair unusually loose, the circlet missing from her forehead. “The Paladins? And Princess, your circlet, where did it go?”

“It was a mistake.” Allura frowned, angry at herself, “I took it off because I thought I could find where Citrine and Peridot were. That’s how I can find them, the Paladin’s abilities are strongest when interacting with each other, bonding.”

Her Lady-in-Waiting had no idea how to take in the news, “But you know you shouldn’t take off the limits on your own powers, it’ll only drain you more quickly…”

“We need them now more than ever. Exhausting myself a little is worth being able to find two of the five heroes that we need.” Katie reached out to take Allura’s hand, leading her back to her bed. The princess only shook her head.

“Well, in the end the resonation faded quickly, so I couldn’t pinpoint it.” She smiled regretfully, “Next time though. I’ll find them. And I promise I won’t take my limiter off again.”

“It’s fine…,” Katie pushed up her glasses nervously before handing Allura her circlet. “I just… worry about the stress you’re under… because you’re my…”

“Because?” Allura’s sharp tipped ears perked in curiosity.

“Because you’re the ruler of this nation, and we’re in a war.” Katie finished decidedly.

Allura sighed, settling back into her bedsheets. “You’re right. I should take care of myself better.”

Katie made to leave the room, taking quiet steps back to the door.

“Katie?”

She turned back, looking at Allura, her silvery hair shining in the sun that steadily rose in the windows of her bedroom.

“I was thinking…” She started carefully, “That maybe on one of my days off, if not today, then tomorrow, or something like that, maybe we could go out and have a picnic.”

Katie said nothing, looking at her princess as she smiled sheepishly.

“You know, for old time’s sake… Like we did before”

A feeling that she couldn’t even begin to describe welled up in her throat, and Katie bit back the urge to tell her that there was no way to compare now to what was before. Nothing compared to those days back then. It was different now. Much more treacherous, much more cold.

Instead she pretended to deliberate, cocking her head to the side. “Maybe. But please consider your health first.”

“Well of course!” Allura’s hesitant smile had gone, now beaming.

“Rest well, your Majesty.”

And the doors were swiftly shut.

 

* * *

 

 

It began as a faint ringing in his ears and a black smoke clouding his vision. As soon as Keith had mentioned the Galran General’s name, his subtle headache had crescendo into an unbearable pain. He could feel something excruciatingly cold wind up his chest, settling on his neck like a vice.

“Shiro…Shiro?”

And suddenly he could see again, the pain subsided and the cold gone. He shook his head, confused from the sensations leaving as quickly as they had arrived. He could see Keith again, and the young man had reached out as if he was about to to hold him up, or to give him a reassuring touch. Keith himself noticed this as well, and he flinched before dropping his hand down by his side.

“I’m… I’m okay… I just have no idea what that was.” Shiro ran his free hand through his hair, his other still gripping the hilt of his sword.

Keith looked down at the sand before looking back at him again, his purple eyes lowered into slits, concentrating. “I need to ask you something… and only because it’s vital to you that I do so.”

“Oh…kay?” He said, questioningly.

“Shiro… do you remember how you got here? What you were doing before you were in The Wasteland?”

“Well yeah, I-“ He stopped short, his heart pounding. Outside the wind had slowly subsided. While the storm was still strong, it was much lessened, creating an uncomfortable silence in the hut. “-I don’t remember.”

Shiro’s black eyes had widened, defeated. “I can remember who I am and where I’m from…  But I know it was like this the last time I tried to recall anything… like I was being pulled back down into a fog with force. I don’t know what’s happening, to be honest.”

“I do.” Keith said quietly. “It’s the Witch’s Curse.”

“The… what? How can you tell?” Terror flicked across his features for only a moment before settling behind his solid façade.

“I can’t tell you her name, or it’ll only hurt you more. But I can smell her on you, the same disgusting smell everyone else who’s been cursed has.”

Shiro looked at his hands, his body. He felt by all accounts fine. But he also knew that his reaction to things Keith had just revealed was abnormal. “Why do you think I was cursed?”

It was then that Shiro noticed Keith had actually put a hand on his shoulder. The weight of his hand wasn’t much, he could see the unhealthily skinny wrists peeking out from under his jacket, but it was comforting, something he somehow knew he hadn’t experienced in months.

Keith saw that Shiro was distracted, and trailed off with his own sentence. He followed Shiro’s line of sight to see his own hand, on a man that for every reason could consider him his mortal enemy. He recoiled, his face flushing. “Sorry I just… I thought…”

The other young man, despite all of his expectations cracked a crooked smile, the first he had seen on Shiro’s face. He could feel himself dazzled, and so he turned his head away, back at the shadows that flickered from the flames onto the walls of his hut. “Anyways… we need to get you out of here.”

“The hut? The storm’s still going outside…”

“I mean out of The Wastelands.” Keith turned to look at Shiro’s eyes and saw that he was surprised, unprepared to hear what he had just heard.

His eyes had hardened while he looked at the taller boy in front of him, “I won’t let the Witch take you.”

“But why?” Shiro could hear that his voice was breathy as his peered back at the ferocity burning in Keith’s violet eyes. “I’m your enemy.”

He turned his head from side to side. “Not anymore. I promise I’ll help you get out of here. It doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

Before Shiro could protest his statement, Keith had continued, his voice bitter and low.

“I want Galra to burn.”


	3. Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, a bit earlier than I anticipated myself! 
> 
> Things are steadily moving along now, please look forward to a lot of emerging story line in the next chapter!

“Honestly… She’s the laziest Lady-in-Waiting I’ve ever met... “

Katie slowly opened her eyes, the clarity of her sight making her realize that she had forgotten to take off her glasses. She heard more muffled voices, an exasperated voice in conversation.

“I would hope that Miss Holt had at least the decency to wake up before you did, your Majesty. Your mother would have never stood for this if I did the same…” 

She rolled over in her bed, in a futile attempt to distance herself from that voice. It was the royal housekeeper and the woman that was Allura’s nurse when she was young, Lady Romelle. Katie was more than aware that Lady Romelle didn’t find her fit for her duties, but it wasn’t like Katie was really trying.

From past the doors that led to Allura’s bedroom, she could hear the princess give her calm assurances in a lilting voice. “No, it was my fault. I woke her quite early this morning because of my own mistakes, and I know that she had been up late in an attempt to help me with other affairs.”

There was a sigh before Lady Romelle spoke once again. “But my Princess, Miss Holt is not here to help you with other affairs, she is here to serve you like a Lady-in-Waiting should.”

Katie decided it was better off to get ready for the day now than to be once again caught sleeping by Lady Romelle, swinging her legs onto the floor next to her bed. She rubbed her glasses clean with her pajama shirt before standing up to open her closet, wistfully glancing at Pidge’s outfit. The comfortable simplicity of it contrasted the rest of her closet, containing rows of delicately tailored and stitched dresses fit for the personal maid of a princess. All of them were some shade of dark green, something she had only mentioned once before to Allura as her favorite color.

The conversation between the royal housekeeper and the princess went on, now on topics of what needed to be taken care of that day. Soon after, Katie heard the door shut, followed by a strangely hollow silence. She continued to put her dress on, increasingly irritated by one of the numerous lacings that she couldn’t begin to understand nor have the patience for. There was a knock on her door that interrupted her struggle. “Katie?”

Katie was out of breath while responding, “Yes? Princess Allura?”

Allura opened the door before giving a quiet gasp, but Katie could recognize when Allura was trying to also hide a laugh. “I was going to say you could come in, but I’m currently… having a bit of a fight with today’s outfit.”

She sat down on her bed in defeat, the lacings of her top were tangled, sleeves hanging around her waist as she had yet to find the proper armholes. “I don’t think I’m really made for something like this…” She explained, annoyance at the garment bubbling in her voice.

The princess crossed her room with a smile, sitting down on her bed with her. “Turn around.” Allura gently insisted, “I’ll help you get this on.”

Katie’s face flushed. “I dunno… it almost seems like our roles have switched.”

“Does it?” Allura’s eyes were bright, entertained as she sorted out the mess. “I suppose we were like this when we were kids anyways-” 

“But… aren’t you annoyed with me?” Katie interjected. Allura’s hands stilled for a moment. “Sometimes I feel like you help me more than I can help you.”

The princess continued, urging Katie’s left arm into a sleeve, then the right. “You heard Lady Romelle, didn’t you.”

Katie said nothing, but pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Don’t pay her mind, I know it’ll take a little getting used to. Life here is a bit different, but I also just know that you’ll get the hang of it!” Allura tightened the laces running up and down the sleeves, then the one running down Katie’s back.

When Katie shifted back around, still looking a bit disappointed in herself, the princess grinned and tapped the circlet resting on her forehead. “Besides, I know you have my best interests in mind, and that’s what I believe is most important when it comes to who I surround myself with.”

The blush returned to Katie’s cheeks when she saw the circlet, “That was a while ago… I just wanted to make sure you weren’t tired all the time-” 

“But you helped me in this instance. You’ll help me again in the future.” This time, it was Princess Allura’s turn to interrupt.   

Before Katie could refute her statement, Allura had already turned to head back into her own room. 

“You look lovely in that dress, by the way.” The princess said smiling, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

Katie stood up, facing the mirror next to her closet. She couldn’t see what Allura meant.

The person in the mirror was a stranger.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, the storm had long settled. In its place was a remarkably clear sky, not a single cloud to be seen. Overhead, the sun beat down on the barren landscape. Shiro sat atop the rock behind Keith’s hut, surveying the surrounding sand dunes. Nothing stood out in particular in the scenery, besides the occasional rock jutting out from the sand, still no different than the one he was perched on.

After a fairly tense conversation with rounds of heated discussion, they agreed that it was best to set off as soon as possible. If Shiro was honest with himself, he wasn’t exactly comfortable traveling with the half-Galran half-Human young man, but he knew the desert infinitely better than Shiro, and two heads were always better than one.

There were moments where Shiro felt guilty about being so suspicious of Keith, but it was an ingrained fear. One that he had known since he was very little, from the stories told by his parents, to his own blurred experiences of the past few months. He couldn’t exactly remember them, and Keith advised that he not pry too hard, for fear of awakening the curse again. Even then, he knew that there was a reason as to why his hands shook when his thoughts wandered, why he woke in the middle of the night with heaving breaths.

Shiro thought of his parents again, wondered how they were doing since his absence, and realized that he didn’t know exactly how long he had been gone.

“How’s it look up there?” 

Startled, Shiro turned to see Keith leap from a lower ledge of the rock onto the top where he stood, his cat-like movements graceful and strangely mesmerizing. The cloth that was the entrance of his feeble shelter now hung around him like a cape and hood. Keith gave Shiro a hesitant nod as he pulled the hood back, exposing two purple tinged pointed ears on the top of his head.     

He began to falter as he noticed Shiro open mouthed, with no sign of responding to his previous inquiry. “Oh!” Keith turned around quickly, dragging the hood to cover his ears, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t really thinking… It was just faster to climb the rock like this.”

When he turned around his skin was once again pale, his purple eyes shifting to the side as he murmured another apology. Shiro smiled instead, even though it was a small, tired smile. “Don’t worry about it… I was just a bit surprised.” 

Keith slowly sat down as close to Shiro as he dared, handing him another length of cloth. “Here’s another one… I used this one to sleep in, if you don’t mind, but it will be cover from the sun.” 

“Thank you, it’ll help, especially since I have to go out in this.” He took the cape before motioning at the length of his body. They had discussed what to do with Shiro’s plate armor, eventually agreeing that it would be far too dangerous and laborious to force Shiro to cross the desert in full armor. He had stripped down to his gambeson, the protective cloth jacket underneath.

The two also recognized the dangers of leaving Altean plate armor laying in the middle of a desert full of exiles, so Keith decided the best thing was to destroy it the best of their ability before burying it under a rock. After Shiro shrugged the makeshift cape on, he looked at Keith, noticing the thin sheen of sweat on his face. “Are we just about ready?”

“I just took care of the armor. There isn’t much to take with us, just some water and some dried meat that I have.”

Shiro had left the majority of the packing to Keith. After he had done his best to dent and scratch his own armor beyond repair was when he had taken the time to climb up the rock. “So where are we headed after this?”

Keith didn’t answer, scanning the horizon before his eyes rested solidly on the white towers of Altea in the distance. “It might be a bit more roundabout… but I have an idea. 

“Oh?”

“There’s pros and cons to this, so it’s your decision in the end, but I was thinking we could follow the underground rivers of the desert as we head towards Altea. It’ll give us a better chance of having a steady water supply whenever we reach an oasis…”

“But there might be others at an oasis.” Shiro finished for him, nodding. It was clear that Keith had put a generous amount of thought into his decisions, the reason why he could have survived for so long. It was something Shiro wanted to respect. 

He pulled at the sleeves of his red jacket, seemingly relieved that he didn’t have to say it himself. “Shiro, what do you think we should do then?” 

“I think your idea is good, we really have no choice but to take the risk.” Shiro returned, “I know it’ll take us about four days to cross the desert completely from one end to another, but how long with the way you’re suggesting?”

“Another extra day, I’m thinking.” Keith said distractedly, toeing the edge of the cliff. “Are you ready to leave? We could take more time.” 

Shiro stood, checking that his sword was securely seated in its sheath, belted tightly around his hips. “No, I think I’m good.” 

Keith pulled his hood over his head again before leaping clear off the top of the rock, something that still surprised Shiro even though he had already experienced it before. He could hear the soft crunch of the other young man’s landing below, and so he began his own descent. Shiro couldn’t do anything as nimble or dramatic as Keith, but he was able to climb downwards with ease, a firm grip on the face of the rock. With a few feet remaining from the ground, he opted to push himself off the side, dropping into a heavy roll. Keith stood nearby, watching.

“So, is everything packed?” He asked as he dusted his knees and arms off.

“Y-yeah…! It’s right over here…” Came Keith’s strangely flustered reply. He pointed towards a small bag sitting next to the now empty hut as he went over to lift it, the straps of the bag straining. 

Shiro reached for it, and when he was handed the bag he gave a small grunt of surprise. It was heavier than he expected. Inside was varying containers filled with water, at the bottom was a couple handfuls of dried meat. “You weren’t kidding when you said all you had was meat and water.”

“Yeah?” Keith cocked his head to the side, “Why would I be joking about that?”

Shiro chuckled in response, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Wait-” Keith held out a hand to grab a strap, “Are you okay with taking that? You don’t have to.”

“We can take turns if you want.” The other shrugged looking back at the hut, “But besides that, do you want to say any last goodbyes?” 

While the mood wasn’t necessarily playful, it had lifted considerably now that the two knew what their next move would be. Both were secretly excited to leave The Wasteland in their own way, but at the mention of his shelter for the past couple months, Keith’s eyes darkened, looking down at his bony hands. “No. I have no good memories of this place.”

Shiro’s face was severe now as well, realizing what Keith meant. After a moment Keith looked upward again, into the other young man’s onyx eyes.

“I’m ready to move on.”

 

* * *

 

The first day went blessedly without a hitch. As Keith explained it, Galrans had the advantage of a heightened sense of smell, which made it easier for them to find resources. Humans, on the other hand, had a certain tenacity that Galrans lacked without their magic to keep them going. Keith spent the first day using his advantages to find underground rivers, becoming Galran to find the smell of water, but human to provide the stamina to keep walking.    

In his own silent way, Keith had also insisted that Shiro take the majority of their food and water. His sips from the canister handed to him were sparing, and in moments of rest he would hand Shiro strips of jerky until the man had to outright refuse. Shiro was grateful that Keith was being so considerate to ensure he wouldn’t further sicken himself, but he knew in any other situation, he wouldn’t have allowed it. Even still, he knew it was to prove him trustworthy, so Shiro said nothing.

By the second day the pair had fallen into a routine, a heavy silence as their muscles strained to keep going. They had yet to find any sign of aboveground water, but along the way Keith had found various cacti and succulents, telling Shiro to snack on them. Worse comes to worse, Keith explained, they could dig until they hit an underground stream of water.

Sometimes, in panting breaths during the day or while sitting near a campfire at night, Keith would tell stories of his childhood in Galra, how he grew up as a privileged child under the General, how he underwent military training before he realized he couldn’t find the same zealous need to fight for the Empire like the others did. “I suppose the General already realized I was somewhat defective,” Keith said quietly, “So he let me do what I wanted. I spent more time blacksmithing and tinkering with technologies more than training and fighting. I didn’t realize that he was letting me slowly withdraw from the public eye.” 

To some degree, Shiro understood that Keith was actually uncomfortable with revealing such personal information, but it was another effort to show him that he was willing to bare his entire history in exchange for trust. As the days went by, the talking grew easier, more relaxed, and Shiro also shared some of his fondest memories, many of which included wandering the forests near his family’s home. Neither of them wished to speak of the ongoing war.

Along the way, Keith attempted to teach Shiro the way to catch sand lizards, modeling the stillness he had to achieve to trick the lizards into coming close. As soon as one of the unsuspecting reptiles neared, Keith struck out like a snake, catching the lizard by the tail.

Shiro watched Keith admiringly before attempting the same. Stilling himself was the easiest part, but catching them with the same lightning fast dexterity was another thing. Finally managed to grab one, this one larger than the others and a little bit unsteady on its feet.

“Look! I finally did it! And it’s a fat one too.” Shiro showed Keith the wriggling, tiny creature proudly.

Keith’s reaction only disappointed him. “You should let this one go.” The other young man said with a heavy sigh.

“But why?” Shiro frowned, reluctantly holding onto his lizard. 

“See the way its belly distends?” Keith pointed out the swelling stomach. “It doesn’t mean that it has more meat than the others. It’s more likely it’s sick with worms.”

Shiro shuddered inwardly at the thought of worms and dropped the lizard back onto the sand gently, watching it waddle off as fast as its awkward legs could carry it.

“Goodbye, Sir Reptilian…” He said a bit wistfully.

Keith’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly, “You named it?” 

“I couldn’t help myself.” came Shiro’s mournful reply.

Keith couldn’t help but smile at himself at the ridiculousness of it. 

On the morning of the third day, Keith told Shiro to expect water sometime soon. The news quickened their pace, both looking forward to a basin of fresh water that they could restock their canisters with. Sometime later, in the distance, they saw an oasis framed with palm trees and other abundant greenery.

Keith dipped his hand into the water experimentally as Shiro waited with a parched throat. The young man was Galran once again to heighten his sensitivity, a tongue far longer than a human’s coiled out of his mouth to taste the liquid. Shiro looked at the tongue, entranced before he realized it was incredibly rude to gape at someone else’s anatomy, shifting his eyes away. Tense seconds passed before Keith turned to Shiro, nodding. “This is good. We can drink this with little to no problem.” 

Shiro sank to his knees next to Keith, dipping a canister into the water before bringing it to his lips. The water was cool, and relief washed over his body. The two had become animals at the sight of the oasis. Neither had realized just how desperate they were for water, busy concealing it from one another for the past few days.  In a moment of serendipity, they looked at each other, both hungrily gulping down the liquid.

Shiro couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh, his mouth wide with a smile he didn’t realize he still had. Keith, surprised at the outburst, cracked a smile of his own before laughing, covering his mouth with his arm.

Neither suspected that their smiles would only last for a split second before Keith was forcibly dragged upwards by an arm around his neck. Instantly Keith began to struggle, his hood falling off his head.

Shiro snapped his gaze upwards to see the assailant. A Galran with brutish strength had grabbed Keith so easily, the difference in weight and strength was evident between the two. He had the usual purple skin of a Galran, golden eyes squinting as he took a closer look at his prisoner. “Hey! This one’s a Galran.”

Keith was scrambling, his brain firing off signals, bells, and whistles. Even in the immense feeling, the need to find a way to escape, he could feel the heavy stone in his stomach, a rock of guilt and blame. He shouldn’t have let his guard down, now the both of them were in danger. 

In contrast, Shiro had become deathly still as he watched Keith and the larger Galran. His right hand inched slowly to his left hip, an attempt to draw his sword.

“What are you doing, human?” A second, rough voice came from behind, and a sharper dagger dug into his back.

A lankier Galran had his weapon poised behind Shiro, scars etched onto the left side of his face. Only one piercing yellow eye remained, but the twisted grin on his face told them he didn’t really mind.

“It’s weird to see a Human of all things, bigger than one of our own.” The first said, paying no attention to Keith’s scrabbling hands and nails. “What should we do?”

The second looked Shiro up and down before answering, “I like that sword of his. We should kill him and… liberate our poor little friend over here from his human capturer.”

Keith stilled, his eyes snapping open wide. “Don’t! Don’t do anything to him-”

“This little guy _is_ pretty.” The Galran said as he shifted his grip around Keith’s body, tightening his arms until Keith’s protests were cut short. “We could probably have some fun with him before we sell him off.”

A wicked grin grew on the thinner Galran’s face, baring his fangs as he raised his arm to strike. “That settles it then.”  

“Keith, close your eyes!” A roar came from Shiro, much less as a request and more of a demand, a command that Keith couldn’t refuse.

Shiro drew his sword and raised it high over their heads, an impossibly blinding white light bursted forth from the blade, stunning the Galran pair.

The larger Galran released Keith in favor of covering his eyes, dropping to his knees in agony. Keith fell in a heap before he struggled to get up and run.

Shiro ran at the blinded Galran, a terrifying hatred had welled up in his chest, staining his every moment with crystallized, killing intent. Something is _wrong_ , his mind urgently told him.

He pushed the thoughts aside, lunging at his enemy with his sword pointed forwards, willing the blade to sink into purple flesh. The Galran had no chance to even react, the black blade sinking into his skull like a knife in melted butter.

Shiro looked at the fallen body before pulling his weapon back and almost retched. It was cruel death, merciless in its brutality. 

_Was it… Was it like this before?_

His hands shook.

“Don’t forget about me!” A hoarse shout pulled Shiro back from his reverie. The other Galran had recovered, running with his dagger towards Keith a few yards away.     

 _Too late_ , rang in Shiro’s ears. He wasn’t close enough to get to the two, forced to see fate unfurl itself in front of him.

Keith’s golden eyes stared unwaveringly at his opponent as he slashed his weapon, aiming for Keith’s stomach. At the last moment, he jumped back, dodging the dagger by millimeters before sinking low to his feet. He grabbed a fistful of sand, throwing into the Galran’s only eye.

His enemy had only a moment to howl, surprised at being blinded twice. Scraping at his eye and shaking his head, he didn’t notice as Keith gave him a hard punch at the bend of his arm, forcing him to drop his weapon. With deft fingers, Keith caught the dagger and turned it back around to face its owner. Once again with the startling grace, Shiro watched as Keith wound around the Galran before slitting his throat from behind.

The body sank in the sand with a pitiful gurgle from its open throat, adrenaline singing through Keith’s veins as he looked down at his bloody hands. He tried to wipe the sweat rolling down his brow, staining his face with a dark purple. 

The silence of the desert had now become akin to the quiet reverence of a chapel. Keith stood over the Galran, his head hung from his shoulders like in a private prayer. Shiro’s back faced his own opponent, looking at Keith instead.

“Are you…,” Shiro realized he had been taking gasping breaths, unsure of breaking Keith’s stillness, “Are you okay?”

With shaky legs, Keith turned to give Shiro a weak smile, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Shiro’s eyes widened as he saw the long stretch of purplish blood, burst open against the black of Keith’s inner shirt. Keith took notice and pressed a hand against his abdomen, feeling the wetness.

“No, you’re _not_ fine.” He heard Shiro whisper, his voice lacking its usual clarity and calmness. It sounded distant and fuzzy, with an amount of desperation Keith wasn’t used to.

He felt himself fall, but not the landing. His world receded into black.

 

* * *

 

Keith blinked his eyes rapidly against the night time sky. Nearby he heard the crackle of a fire, and overhead he heard the lush sound of palm trees swaying in the wind.

“Didn’t seem like I had to slap you awake.” Said a voice, low and weary, but relieved.

He eased himself up into a sitting position, noticing that his chest was bare and painfully purple. There was a large wrapping of bandages around his stomach, where he had been cut. He looked to where he heard the voice beside him, looked at Shiro’s face that wore a wan smile.

“How did you…,” Keith lightly touched his bindings before wincing, “Where did you get this?”

Shiro’s eyes had been staring intently at Keith’s, but his dark eyes now looked at the fire before them. “When you fainted I thought you were going to bleed out. I tried to staunch the bleeding with your shirt but it wasn’t much help.”

He could tell that Keith was already wondering if he was able enough to cross the remaining distance of the desert.

“Don’t worry, the cut was pretty long, but not too deep. You should be fine.” Shiro reassured him before joking, “And I guess this way we’re kind of even now.”

“That’s true… Thank you for saving me.” Keith said with quiet sincerity, hand still wrapped around his stomach.

The taller man scratched the back of his head in an embarrassed motion before continuing with his explanation. “I remembered them saying something about… selling you.” His words were careful, glancing at Keith. Keith’s face was emotionless.

“So I realized that they couldn’t have been exiles, especially with their equipment. I searched around and realized that on the other side of this oasis was a pair of horses hidden in the palm trees. They had packs of supplies on them, food, water, and first aid.”

“Smugglers.” Keith said, flatly. His ears were close to his head, angry.  

“What?”

“To you, illegal traders from Galra to Altea and vice versa. To Galra, just another thing on a long list of things they mock Altea about. We openly know that some diplomats of Altea are smuggling wares and slaves back and forth between the desert. 

Shiro’s hand tightened into a fist as his eyes became distant. “I had no idea… I don’t even think the Princess has any idea… we thought it might have been one or two things, but not a regulated system.”

“I’m sorry…,” Keith leaned over and touched Shiro’s shoulder lightly, without thinking, “I know you told me that the last thing you remember was being close to the Altean border. I’m guessing that’s how they got you...”

Shiro said nothing about the comment or the hand on his shoulder, his gaze still cold and inwardly thoughtful. Neither one of them felt the need to say anything more, instead they listened to the sound of the wind blowing across the desert.

In the morning Shiro lead Keith to the pair of horses he had found the day before, and with surprise he saw an open smile of delight appear on the young man’s face. Keith instantly gravitated towards the demure looking chestnut horse, holding out his hand like an offering. Shockingly, the horse freshly abandoned by its previous owner, accepted Keith’s hand gratefully as if seeing a friend for the first time in years.

Shiro watched, rapt as Keith charmed the two horses. Under his spell, Keith was able to lead the solid looking black horse towards him, and Shiro was able to take the reins from him easily.

“How are you…?” He didn’t finish his sentence, marveling as Keith ran his hands through the reddish horse’s mane.

Keith seemed to come back to himself, looking abashed. “When I finished military school, they told me I was useless with fighting, but I had the best scores for horse riding and taming.”

“There’s something about them… that makes me feel like we understand each other.” The young man looked at his horse in its eyes, and the horse seemed to quietly agree.

Shiro shook his head, recalling the fluidity of Keith’s movements. “To me, your fighting looked fine. Well, more than fine, actually.”

Keith’s face flushed red in response. “Thanks… actually, I don’t know what came over me.”

 _I don’t know what came over me either._ The words edged at the back of Shiro’s throat.

“They look like they’re in relatively good condition.” The half-Galran observed, unaware of Shiro’s thoughts. “We should be able to make up the time we lost… we might even be able to show up before our expected time.”   

“Oh,” Shiro remembered, “I think it’d be best to arm yourself, but I didn’t know if this was in poor taste.”

He produced the dagger Keith had used on its owner and another similar dagger, a twin set. “I found the other in the packs the horses had. They have provisions necessary for days of travel. At least we don’t have to worry about food and water anymore.”

His words was greeted by a laugh from Keith, louder and more unrestrained than the last time when they had just discovered the oasis drinkable. He continued to chuckle as Shiro looked at his purple skin, the ears on top of head pointed upwards in amusement. Shiro surprised himself by realizing that the sight was far from unpleasant.

“I’m sorry, I just…,” Keith took in a deep breath, somewhat sheepish from his outburst, “I guess it was better off that we got attacked, you know? This whole damned situation is so stupid…”

Shiro grinned widely as well, “I guess you’re right about that.”

They stopped by the water’s edge one last time with the horses to allow them water, checking their newly found supplies. Keith had finally mustered the strength to change his form back to human, explaining that it exhausted him to be human when he was injured, his body still unfamiliar with the change and more welcoming to his Galran form.

“Everything looks good,” Shiro finally said after going through the last bag.

On Keith’s end, he had been busy throwing out goods the Galrans had intended to carry back to their empire. Illicit substances buried or scattered and  Altean crafted blades, all of them thrown into the bottom of the oasis to rust away. “It’s almost too bad that we have to throw this all away.”

With a final pat against the packs on his chestnut horse, Keith easily swung his leg over and seated himself on the saddle. His back was so straight, his body flexible, Shiro thought he saw a young prince of a far off country rather than an exile that had just been injured, and before that, weathered The Wastelands for months.

Shiro hopped onto his horse as well, testing the reins to gain a better feel of the jet black horse’s temperament. The horse remained gentle and even keeled, an interesting contrast to the way Keith’s horse stomped, eager to move, to gallop.

Still, Keith held his horse in place, looking at him expectantly. As a reply, a crooked grin stretched on Shiro’s face. “Well Keith, I think it’s time we get going.”

They set off once more, this time their hearts lighter than the last, towards the white towers of Altea.


	4. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter four! I took a bit of a break to write my one shot, Decent Black. (Please go ahead and check that out if you haven't! Be forewarned, it's literally all just smut involving dark! Shiro and Keith.) 
> 
> It's strange because I visualized this entire chapter as the end of chapter three, but then that wound up being much longer than I anticipated. Then I thought I would merge the end of three into my plans for four, and then it wound up being that what I thought would be the end of three had to be a chapter in itself. Either way, this is just me rambling. Thank you so much for taking the time to read all that way to the fourth chapter of Ascension! Please enjoy : >

Shiro wasn’t sure if Keith noticed, but he had been watching him.

Every once in awhile, as they crossed through the desert border into the lush Altean forests, he caught Keith staring at just about any greenery they came across. From the bright blue, bell-shaped flowers that clustered around the base of tree trunks, to the tree covered in blushing pink blossoms. Everywhere he looked, Keith seemed to be fascinated, thinly veiled by the intense gaze he wore as he observed everything.

It was only a matter of time before Shiro himself began to glance back at Keith every once in awhile, just to catch the other young man’s expressions. At the moment, he was thoroughly distracted by the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, pinpricks of light falling through the leaves like a light dusting of stars.

Around the campfire the night before, their last night out in the wilderness, Shiro had assured Keith that he could assume whatever form he wished. He insisted, given that Keith was injured, he should do what was the most naturally comfortable for him. Keith remained Galran, and his response was taciturn, but also grateful in the way he looked at Shiro.

Now that they no longer had to go on foot, Shiro found his free time wandering in his own muddled thoughts. Fear of the witch, the ongoing threat of the Galra, and even longing to see the princess and his family once again roiled constantly in his brain. Even so, a constant, clear phrase demanded attention.

_What is Keith to you?_

Sure, he felt camaraderie, given the circumstances they had braved together, but it wasn’t so simple. There was no proof that Keith wasn’t doing any of this for his gain. It could still be an elaborate trick, with or without the curse hanging over Shiro’s head.

But then there was the way Keith bristled at the mention of Galra. It was because of that, and the fact that he had been saved by him, that Shiro wanted to trust Keith. Maybe it didn’t even matter in the end, their journey was soon coming to an end, and at that point, they would part ways forever.

The thick underbrush of the woods suddenly broke, a small path revealing itself. On either side was the magenta flowers so dear to the princess, the sweet ache of the sight made Shiro finally realize he was actually home.

“If you could manage,” Shiro began, addressing Keith to quell the feelings surfacing from his thoughts, “It’d be best for you to change into... “

His voice trailed off, noticing that Keith had been also inspecting the same brightly colored flowers. In particular, his purple Galran ears could not contain his interest, the pair of them wiggling with evident intrigue. At the sight, Shiro couldn’t help but let out muffled laughter. The ears then perked into alarmed points, Keith swiftly turned with a questioning look on his face.

Shiro shook his head. “I’m sorry it’s just… your ears remind me of an animal that lives in human territories…”

Keith’s ears drooped, his face trying to hide apparent embarrassment. “What sort of… animal?”

“I would have to say feline…,” Shiro tilted his head sideways, picturing a common house cat, then a panther. “They come in a large variety of sizes, big and small.”

“I see…,” Keith said thoughtfully. “What sort are you picturing in particular?”

Shiro choked, biting back the words _An adorable one_ , the phrase shocking him as much as it probably would have shocked Keith.

“Oh that’s right.” Keith continued on, evidently unaware of Shiro’s internal monologue. “We’re nearing official Altean territory. I should switch back to human, shouldn’t I?”

Shiro watched as the cat-like ears receded back into his hair, the fine purple pelt melting back into milky white skin. It was a strange to watch his transformation, but somehow one that he had begun to get used to. Keith continued onwards along the path with his horse, his now purple eyes scanning the foliage. “I just can’t get used to this… how colorful everything is.”

“Really?” Shiro returned. “From what I remember, there was some forests just outside of Galran territory too…”

He shivered involuntarily, still unable to recall how he got there or how long he had been wandering in those forests. Beside him, Keith was silent for a moment, his mouth open as if to find the right words. “That’s… only because it was so close to the Wastelands. Everything in the center, near the capital has been stripped bare… a wasteland of a different kind.”

Shiro nodded, the sound of horse hooves beating against the forest floor cutting through the quiet. He had heard that the Galra had run out of their own resources, which gave them the power, but also reason, to reach out and conquer new territories. It was only natural that a kingdom on the brink of starvation would search for other lands.

“I never did agree with it… the way everyone used up things until it had completely run dry and withered away. I guess that was the human in me talking all along.” Keith gave him a shrug, as if to show just how much he didn’t care.

“That’s not necessarily a human trait.” Shiro replied sincerely. “That’s just what any good person would understand. I suppose the Galra were just a bit more vehement with the way they acquired and used things.”

Keith didn’t answer, but Shiro didn’t mind, watching the way the other young man’s face smoothed over like glass, pensive. They rode in silence until the makeshift dirt pathway became smooth with flagstones, the forest waning. Before them was an imposing wall, one erected at the beginnings of the war by the late King Alfor.

With the thickness and height of it, the stones polished and without any possible footholds, it was impossible to climb, never mind the magic that it must have been imbued with. A small but sturdy outpost was placed in front of the wall’s gate, a soldier's’ station. Without thinking, the two of them pulled their hoods up over their heads, remembering the smuggled goods that they had destroyed in the desert.

Shiro stretched out his arm, halting Keith. He turned pointedly, but remained speechless. Even so, Keith knew that he was to follow closely behind Shiro, in case of conflict. They fell into a straight line and their horses trotted forward, nearing the single soldier standing just outside the station.

Shiro made to wave at the guard, a friendly gesture. The fully armored soldier did not respond, motionless until they finally were within talking distance.

“Stop.” The man said, his face obscured by his helmet. “It is highly unusual to see humans traveling outside of the border walls. By the decree of our ruler, Princess Allura, I trust that you have your papers to state your reasons.”

Keith could feel sweat bead on his brow, the combination of springtime heat and his own anxieties manifesting as the drops rolled down his temple. Still, he made no sign of moving, waiting for Shiro’s response.

“We don’t have anything on us.” He said, surprisingly honest. “But Alec… is that you…?”

Shiro pulled his hood back, a hopeful smile on his face. “You can never really tell with those helmets… but I think I would recognize the sound of your voice.”

At the sight of him, the soldier sputtered, reaching to open his visor with shaking hands. Piercing blue eyes peered at Shiro, disbelieving. “Takashi Shirogane…!” He breathed, “But you were… you’re… you-”

“I get it.” Shiro held out a hand, both to quiet and to reassure. Alec abruptly straightened his back and held his right arm in salute. “This is a lot for you to take in, as well as for me.”

“I just can’t believe you’re here. You’re _alive_.” Alec’s voice was thick with emotion, on the verge of breaking. “You were gone right out of training, we all looked up to you, but then you were gone. The call of the Princess, your duty as the Obsidian Paladin…”

“Obsidian… Paladin?” Involuntarily, Keith spoke, alarm evident in his voice. As the words escaped his lips, he cursed himself, knowing he should have not said anything.

Alec snapped out of his reverie,  now sharply aware of Keith’s presence. “Who is this, Shiro?”

“This is my companion, Keith.” Shiro spoke the words so fluidly, for a moment even he himself could believe that there was nothing suspicious about having someone with him that was neither of the Holts. “But more importantly, I feel that we need to contact the Princess and talk to her.”

“O-oh! That’s right!” He blubbered in response, “I’m just, I can’t believe you’re right in front of me. Please believe me, I’ve only had this post for only a couple months but-”

Shiro gave him a charming, crooked grin, “It’s fine, I trust in your abilities Alec. Please just get someone to send word to Princess Allura.”

Alec jumped into another hasty salute, “R-right away! I’m sure when everyone gets word you’ll be considered a hero, a champion!”

With those words he scuttled off to the station, leaving Keith and Shiro by themselves. With a wry smile, Keith had to admit he admired Shiro’s ability to smooth everything over with his words. He inched his horse beside Shiro’s, about to say something to that effect before he noticed Shiro’s black eyes were wide and unblinking.

“Shiro?” A dread blanketed his body as he watched him, unmoving. The scent of the Witch was stronger now, as if taunting Keith.

Suddenly, like icy water poured onto his face, words clicked in Keith’s mind. The Obsidian Paladin. Alec’s cheerful calling of “champion.”

_Shit._

Keith hopped off his horse, just in time to catch Shiro’s slumping body. He hadn’t realized it until just then, but his malnourished body could barely withstand the weight, both of them falling onto the ground in the process. He made a gasp of pain, feeling the newly stitched skin around his wounds pull in protest. It didn’t matter, what he needed to do now was to take Shiro from the Witch’s Grip. Keith cradled Shiro’s head in his lap, eyes quickly looking back at the outpost to ensure that Alec hadn’t witnessed the scene. There was no motion from the station, and his attention turned back to Shiro.

“Hey.” Keith whispered urgently, turning Shiro’s head from side to side with both hands. “You can’t lose it now. Come back.”

Shiro’s pupils were pin-pricks, unmoving as if entranced. Keith could feel the slight tremors coursing through his body. Gritting his teeth, Keith struck him across the face, hard enough to sting the palm of his hand.

“W-wha?!” Shiro exclaimed, a familiar scene of him sitting up, cradling his cheek. This time though, his skin had gone ghostly white, cold sweat on his face. His other hand was gripping at his chest, heaving deep breaths. “What happened Keith? Why… why are we on the ground?”

Exhaling, Keith stood, extending a hand to Shiro, “First, can you stand? We can’t alert the guard to what just happened.”

“R-right,” Shiro took the hand, his legs still shaking, “Was that the witch again? Why did that… thing happen again? I felt so cold, and I couldn’t see anything…”

Keith said nothing, dark eyebrows furrowed into a pronounced grimace. “Shiro… I need you to trust me.”

“Of- of course I do I-”

“I mean it.” His purple eyes were hard, staring at Shiro with an intensity that insisted on honesty. “I don’t need the diplomatic, charismatic Shiro right now. I need you to mean it.”

His mind tried to pierce through the confusion, and a peculiar thought of _Keith thinks I’m charismatic_ drifting by.

But did Shiro trust Keith?

Keith’s horse whined anxiously, breaking apart his tense thoughts. Shiro’s hand reached to grip Keith’s shoulder, squeezing it softly. Keith flinched, surprised.

“I mean it too, Keith.”

They looked at each other for a longer moment before the shorter young man’s body seemed to relax under his hand, uncoiling with relief. “Alright then.”

Keith turned away to look back at the station. No movement yet again. “I need you to let me into Altea. So that when your curse is lifted, I can tell you vital information about what you’ve been doing this past year.”

Shiro let considered the words carefully, refusing to let Keith know that he was startled by the news that Keith could fill in the missing gaps of his memories, let alone that it had been a year.

“I know it sounds like too much to ask. Me being who I am, an exile-”

“When was that up for discussion?” Shiro said softly, “I thought we were going to go to Altea together.”

“What? How can you-?” Keith’s eyes flashed brightly, stunned by Shiro’s words.

Shiro took a deep breath of the forest air, allowing himself to breathe, to calm himself, regain his senses. “What were you going to do if I didn’t say anything? Did you think I was going to be okay to leave you out here?”

“I dunno…,” Keith turned his head stubbornly “I was going to… Camp out here on the fringes, I guess…?”

Shiro had to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. “I couldn’t ever ask you to do that, let alone the soldiers patrolling that would find you right away and take you to prison.”

“It wasn’t like I thought it through that hard…”

It always mystified him how Keith could plan out his moves so precisely while also missing key details to his strategies, leaving necessary things to chance. Still, a small grin broke out across Shiro’s face. “Besides, you saved my life. The least I could do is help you get through the border.”

He had expected Keith’s face to brighten, but the expression seemed to darken instead. Once again Shiro felt a bit dumbfounded by his responses. He opened his mouth to ask Keith another question, to gain some semblance of understanding, but he heard the familiar clink of armor against stone. They both turned, watching as Alec ran towards them once again.

“I sent someone and they’re fetching the fastest carriage possible back to take you to the castle! The Princess has requested immediate audience.” The soldier explained, breathless with excitement.

“That’s… incredibly quick. How did all the information get relayed so quickly?” Shiro asked, surprised at the speed in which everything had occurred.

Alec tilted his head, confused before he realized, “Oh I’m sorry! I forgot that this was a development since you had left. Princess Allura and her Lady-in-Waiting have been exerting efforts in creating quick means of communication throughout the kingdom. This way she can directly address citizens, receive word from us, or give us warnings and the like… But because it's using the Princess’ abilities, we only can hear from her directly.”

“That's amazing…” Shiro said more to himself than anyone else. Princess Allura had made the best of what she could in his absence, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty for not aiding her during all that time.

The guard nodded in agreement, admiration in the presence of Shiro shining in his eyes before giving out another embarrassed sputter. “Oh, but how forgetful of me! Please come inside while you wait for your carriage, we can help transport your horses to the capital as well.”

“Resting sounds good.” Shiro answered gratefully before turning to Keith. “Let’s go inside?”

Behind him, Keith remained hesitant. His eyes hidden by the heavy bangs hanging in front of his face. After a moment, he looked back up, staring back at Shiro and Alec’s expectant faces.

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

The castle was in uproar, every inch of the royal palace hurrying to prepare for the Obsidian Paladin. Even among the servants and the pageboys, a hushed thrum of energy could be both heard and felt.

_The Return. Her Majesty’s faith in Voltron rewarded._

At the eye of the storm was Princess Allura, her hands gripping tightly to her chest the communication crystal in which she had just heard the news from. Takashi Shirogane had returned, appearing at the Wastelands outpost with the request for an audience. Around her were maids combing through her hair with delicate strokes of the brush. Another took the time to select her gown in regal blues and whites.  

“Work with haste, but precision,” Lady Romelle commanded the servant girls, “The Princess’ appearance must be pristine and perfect for her audience with the Obsidian Paladin.”

In all honesty, Allura could not even comprehend the preparations, her thoughts whirling. Only a few nights ago had she felt the spark of Citrine and Peridot. Now the lost Paladin has returned, the puzzle pieces that she had been fighting to put together now easily slipping into place.

Shiro was finally back.

_But not Katie’s family._

Slowly she turned her head, her blue eyes glancing back at Katie. The Lady-in-Waiting’s face was emotionless, eyes hidden behind the reflection of her glasses. She had been with Allura hours before when the news arrived at her crystal, words exchanged about a mysterious companion, but nothing about Sir Holt or his son.

She realized that there was nothing she could do for Katie. Allura tried to convince herself of that by repeating the sentence over and over like a mantra. As the ruler of Altea, there was no time that could be spared to ease the inner turmoil Katie no doubt currently felt, but even as a friend, she felt at lost for words.

A maid gently nudged Allura to turn her head back to face the mirror once again. A fine braiding of fresh blue flowers were being interlaced into her silvery hair. She felt herself almost despising the useless work they were putting into her appearance, but she forced the thoughts down, allowing her emotions to crystalize into a shard of glimmering ice. Her duty to her country came first over everyone, even herself.

As quickly as they came, the maids and Lady Romelle left. Allura stood in front of the mirror, looking at her hair piled high on her head. The intricate gold lace that paneled over the subtle blue of her bodice glinted in the late afternoon light, her full skirt heavy around her waist. More than peering at her own reflection, she was watching Katie behind her, the girl’s hands gripping her familiar golden circlet.

Katie strode towards her purposefully, mouth a thin line and expressionless. She reached out and placed the circlet around Allura’s forehead, snapping it shut with the clasp at the back. Someone had opened the windows to Allura’s chambers while they were there, and the warm winds ruffled the light chiffon drapery. Still, the silence between the two was as weighty as a stone.

Allura was first to turn, the train of her dress twisting around her. “Katie… I know that there isn’t much I could say, but-”

“Oh, he’s here!” A familiar voice exclaimed as the doors wrenched open. There stood Coran, his hands nervously flapping, “Princess Allura, the Obsidian Paladin has arrived! Let’s go, let’s go! We need to…”

There was almost a visible droop in the man’s moustache when he realized he had very likely interrupted something. The girls stared back at him, equal parts surprised at his arrival and embarrassed to be caught at such a tense moment.

“Should I… Come back later?” Coran ran a gloved hand over his slicked back hair sheepishly, “Though I would not advise waiting, you know, as your advisor and all…”

Katie’s gaze slid from the Princess’ face to the floor, a clear sign that the chance to talk had already passed.

“It’s alright Coran.” The Allura exhaled, attempting to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Let’s go immediately.”

 

* * *

 

A cheer had erupted when the gates of the castle opened to welcome Shiro home, voices of soldiers and civilians alike at the sight of their Obsidian Paladin. With a wide grin, Shiro responded in a gracious bow and a wave, but still continued onwards on the path to the royal hall. Keith followed closely behind, his hood over his face in an attempt to draw attention away from himself. He realized quickly it was essentially unneeded, people’s reactions to Shiro just about erased his existence entirely as they walked.

Even so, he couldn’t help but stare in awe at the high flung Altean architecture, open archways that let the sunlight stream in. Everything was immaculately detailed, with lush greens of nature coexisting against the hard white stone in perfect harmony. It was unlike anything he had seen back in Galra, and he could scarcely believe they were not in some parallel world.

Finally they reached an inner courtyard filled with the chirping of unfamiliar birdsong. Across the way was the entrance to the royal hall, gold filigree spiraling artfully on the tall doors. Wordlessly the helmeted royal guards pulled the doors open, and Keith’s heart leapt into his throat.

There at the end of the room sat the ruler of an enemy country at her throne, her beauty stunning in the setting sun. Her bright blue eyes were like two gems, sharp as a prized dagger, white locks of hair in stark contrast against her dark skin. It wasn’t anything Keith expected of the abhorred Princess Allura, but he didn’t know what he was anticipating in the first place.

“Allura…” Shiro spoke, and a curious twinge of pain clenched in Keith’s chest. Beside him, Shiro’s entire being had relaxed, as if he was finally able to breathe after fighting not to drown. He then dropped to his knees, one fist against the ground in a reverent bow.

“Obsidian Paladin… ” The princess began then shook her head, a smile spreading on her face, eyes softening, “Shiro…”

She walked to where he bowed and a hand wrapped around Shiro’s arm, asking him to stand. “Shiro, it’s been so long. We all thought we had lost you.”

“So I’ve heard,” He said with a lopsided smile, “There’s almost too much I have to say, to explain.”

“As do I,” Allura nodded thoughtfully, “but first I’d like to know who this treasured companion of yours is.”

Keith couldn’t help but flinch, his time had finally come to be addressed by the ruler of Altea. He pulled the cape of his hood back, earnest purple eyes staring back at her.           

Instantly, the dread look of recognition flickered across her features, but only for a second before it disappeared, replaced with an expression that could freeze over fire. “You-”

“We don’t have much time, your Highness.” Keith dared to interrupt, gambling the last of his cards with the feeble hope that Shiro meant enough to her, “I have journeyed with the Obsidian Paladin, hoping to bring him to you so that you may break the Witch’s Curse on him.”

“The Witch? A curse?”

“His memory has been taken. Something so vital, that he will die if the curse is not lifted from him soon.”

Allura’s eyes lowered, her voice lethal. “And how can I believe what you’re saying? You, of all people-”

“It’s true,” Shiro answered, jumping to Keith’s defense, “I can’t remember anything about the past year… not without feeling like I’ll die trying.”

The princess and her paladin stood side by side, sharing a wordless gaze. Keith felt the nails of his hands digging in his palms, the silence unbearable. He noticed that the hall was nearly empty, save the two figures that stood at either side of her throne. The time now was his best bet, with little to no people as witnesses, he could beg for asylum in Altea, no matter how much he felt he didn’t deserved it.

“Coran. Katie.” Allura stated, her tone smooth, with none of the venom previously heard apparent. “I’d like you to take Shiro to the high cleric immediately. Let him know about Shiro’s condition and tell him I’ll be there shortly to assist him.”

The man with the bright orange hair at the right of her throne pulled at his moustache in an anxious manner. “But your majesty, what of his companion?”

“Leave him to me.” She answered, in a way that even Keith knew he couldn’t protest.

The man and the bespectacled girl in green on the left stepped towards Shiro, ushering him out of the hall. Keith stole one last glance at Shiro, his heart pounding when he realized that his gaze was returned. Shiro had been walking towards the door, but he had turned back to look at Keith, something unspoken written in his black eyes. Slowly he looked away, and the gilded doors shut.

Keith was now alone with the woman that had once been his greatest enemy.

Fiery red light of sunset caught the blue jewel of her circlet, and it momentarily shone in an ominous crimson. Princess Allura’s last vestiges of joy at Shiro’s return had completely dissolved, replaced with the hardness of steel. For a moment the two said nothing, and she turned her back to him, gliding back to her throne.

Keith watched as she sat, a graceful arm placed on the armrest and the hand tucked under her chin. Her expression was unreadable as she opened her mouth to speak.

“At first, I thought you brought Shiro back to me as a ruse for the Galra.”

“Your Highness-”

“Don’t try to deny it.” Allura’s fist slammed onto the white marble armrest, the solid force of her strength reverberating throughout the high-ceilinged room. “Don’t think you can hide something like that from me.”

He said nothing, his brows knitted together in the effort to hide the fear climbing into his throat.

“But…” She sighed, her careful facade collapsing into and expression of confusion. “There is also something else, something that as the ruler of Altea I cannot deny.”

Keith’s eyes widened, watching the Princess. This was his chance, despite the overwhelmingly obvious answer to throw him out, or better yet, kill him.

“I will give you an opportunity to tell me what you are and why you are here. Only one opportunity.” Allura’s face was severe, but voice reluctant as she continued.

  
“Prove to me that you deserve to be the Carnelian Paladin.”


End file.
